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It’s hard to describe how vile the Michaela McAreavey song is or how low the life that would find it acceptable

Gail Walker


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Tragic: Michaela McAreavey with her husband John before she was brutally murdered on her honeymoon. Credit: McAreavey Family handout

Tragic: Michaela McAreavey with her husband John before she was brutally murdered on her honeymoon. Credit: McAreavey Family handout

Tragic: Michaela McAreavey with her husband John before she was brutally murdered on her honeymoon. Credit: McAreavey Family handout

Eleven years ago, I attended the funeral of Michaela McAreavey in St Malachy’s Church, Ballymacilroy, Co Tyrone. It was an unforgettable day, for many reasons. One of which was that it seemed the universal revulsion at her murder on honeymoon in Mauritius had brought out the best in people here.

Back then, I wrote how in years to come people would still struggle to make sense of how a kind and devout young woman with her whole life opening up in front of her could fly off on holiday days after her wedding and return home in a coffin. Amid that dreadful horror, it would have been unimaginable that, just over a decade later, a song would exist which mocked her death and the grief of her family.


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